Harry Pothead and the Philosopher's Stoner
by WeirdCornChip
Summary: Little Harry Potter was gardening one day, and discovered a magical plant that could make dreams come true. Features DrugLord!Harry, Stoner!Harry and Gray!Harry. Rated T for drug use.
1. Prologue

Harry Pothead and the Philosopher's Stoner

by WeirdCornChip

I created this concept with a friend of mine. This story contains drug use. If you do not want to read a story about weed than do not read this story. I do not own Harry Potter. I hope you enjoy! Please review and tell me what you think.

Prologue:

Young Harry Potter was not having a pleasant life. It was his eighth birthday today, but he had stopped wondering about presents a long time ago. The Dursleys were terrible people, he knew that, and he didn't particularly care that he was never shown affection. He did miss the very thought of parents, those now shadowy figures that would have tucked him in, made him breakfast, graced him with a form of physical contact that did not harm him. On this particular day, the loss seemed more significant somehow. It was July 31, 1988 and Harry Potter was lonely. He was about to discover his calling.

"Wake up boy!"

Harry's trail of thought spiraled off into nothingness as his uncle clobbered his hammy fist against the door of the cupboard. After a few seconds, the door was roughly wrenched open and Harry was grabbed by the neck of his wrinkled shirt and dragged into the excruciating brightness of the Dursley's kitchen. His stomach growled as he was pushed past his relatives enjoying a full English breakfast.

"Get to work freak!"

Harry was shoved through the back door into his Aunt's already pristine garden. He heard a click as it was locked behind him. Harry sighed: it wasn't like this was unusual. Something would be terribly wrong if his relatives had remembered his birthday. Reluctantly, but with a practiced hand, Harry Potter began his crusade against the nefarious invaders of his dear Aunt Petunia's garden.

A few hours in, sweat dripping from his brow, dirt smeared across his face and hands, the garden was nearly complete. Harry felt ready to lie down and become fertilizer for the flowers. His back creaking as he slowly slumped to the ground, Harry Potter was just closing his eyes when he saw a strange plant in the garden. It was a vibrant green: slender leaflets radiating out from the center in an example the beautiful symmetry provided by nature. "It looks a bit like a Japanese maple", Harry thought as he passed out next to it, not knowing how one minuscule plant could affect the fate of the wizarding world.


	2. Chapter 1

Harry Pothead and the Philosopher's Stoner

By WeirdCornChip

Chapter 1

It was 2 pm at the Dursley's house and the savior of the wizarding world had changed drastically in the four years since his enlightening. Harry lay sprawled on his cot among the many potted plants, lazily watching a little spider spinning its web in the corner. Each movement of its slender legs seemed premeditated, resulting in a graceful dance that only the creature and the boy lying on the bed could appreciate. A pungent odor lingered: the spider seemed a little fuzzier now. Harry picked up the joint that was lying beside him and took another puff. The spider looked almost fluffy now, Harry could almost imagine it elegantly dancing alongside a ballerina. Maybe he should go over to the spider and see if he could train it to dance. Harry started to snicker. An entire spider musical! His laughter grew as his Aunt Petunia walked toward the cupboard under the stairs. A billowing cloud of smoke escaped as the door was apprehensively opened.

Harry giggled more quietly to himself as he focused on the stick like face that greeted him. A few years ago, maybe, he would have cowered in fear and prepared himself for a slap and a list of chores. Weeks after he had found the magical plant which he now knew was called marijuana, his Uncle had tried to get him sent to juvenile for drug possession. The plan, of course, had backfired, and Vernon had ended up with a relatively light sentence: prison for a year and house arrest for the next five. This would not have ended well for Harry, had he not made arrangements with one of his uncle's cellmates: a particularly formidable man named Big Poppy. Big P. had since been released from prison, and the Dursleys knew not to push their nephew; with a few ounces of weed in his pocket, Poppy would be knocking on the front door of Number Four, Privet Drive asking for his "Little Walrus." Yes, Harry had nothing to fear from the Dursleys, and he was well aware of it.

Harry Potter's focus shifted from the human like horse in front of him to the thick envelope she handed to him. He carefully felt the envelope before concluding that there was neither product nor money contained within. "This isn't one of my usual customers," he explained to the world in general before he tore up the envelope and letter to later make joints with. Harry closed the door to his cupboard, relit his marijuana stick, and was delighted to discover another spider had joined the one in the corner. He watched contentedly as they began a gravity defying samba.

The next day found Harry Potter stumbling out of his cupboard for an early morning snack. The Dursley's watched silently as he yanked open the fridge, dreadlocks flapping, and grabbed a jar of olives. The cupboard dweller had just reached over to pluck a pancake of Vernon's plate when a loud thump was heard from the vicinity of the door. His Aunt quietly went to fetch the mail and saw a flock of letter barring owls perched patiently on the front walk. Harry Potter, who by now had noticed the incessant hooting, slowly shuffled to the door and peered out to be greeted by an especially persistent owl that flew right into his arms. Chucking the letter it bore aside, he wrapped his arm around the frantically hooting bird and took it to his cupboard. Sticking a joint in the owl's mouth, and lighting one for himself, Harry stared at the now calm reddish brown owl for a while. "I think I'll name you Juan."

Harry Potter had gained a new compatriot, but the letters kept coming. In the eggs, in the toilet, even hidden in an envelope from one of Harry's most important clients. Driven by weed fueled paranoia, Harry took to running around the house in the underwear, hiding behind corners, and waving his lighter at any letter that dare crossed his path. This continued for a few days, and then the waves of letters stopped. Later that day there was a knock on the door.


	3. Chapter 2

Harry Pothead and the Philosopher's Stoner

By WeirdCornChip

I apologize for Hagrid's speech. I tried. I really did. Anyway, enjoy the story!

Chapter 2

Harry cautiously peered out of the door, a partially smoked joint drooping from the corner of his mouth. A large, hairy man wearing some sort of crumpled brown dress smiled at him expectantly. 'It must be one of my more….special clients,' Harry thought, and waved the gigantic man in.

The colossus sat heavily down on the Dursleys' pristine white couch, and Harry giggled. They had bought it yesterday. "Explain," Harry gave a lazy grin at the large man in front of him and his mind started to wander. He could probably eat like forty loaves of bread, maybe Harry could persuade him to… The boy suddenly poked the sofa and giggled. It felt like bread. Maybe if he asked nicely, Mr. Hairy would eat the sofa. Hairy. Harry. Harry felt his chin and frowned. That wasn't right…why was Harry his name if he only had hair on his head. His gaze turned toward the man's beard, and took a deep drag of his joint as he felt the slow shiver of jealousy creep up his arms like a small irritating animal. Oh. The hairy man had said something while Harry was in his drug induced haze.

"What?" the stoner abruptly blurted out. "What is it, Mr. Hairy?" Why was his beard so frikin puffy? "Oh, meh name's, Hagrid," said the large man. "Oim 'ere ta take ye ta Hogwarts." Harry Potter slowly stroked Hagrids beard. "Hogwarts," Hagrid repeated. "Ohhhhh that's another term for the good stuff," Harry stated. "Hogwarts 's the school fer witchcraft an' wizardry," Hagrid answered confusedly. "Wibblwhatsits?" Harry stared at his joint in confusion, then looked back at Hagrid. "Yeh really haven't heard o' Hogwarts…" the large man petered off. "Hogwarts is a term for the good stuff right?" Harry cautiously answered. "Yer a wizard, 'arry!" Hagrid grinned. "And yer a hairy wizard," Harry said seriously. The boy who lived started giggling uncontrollably before nearly choking on his joint.

"Oim 'ere ta teke ya ta get yer school supplies," Hagrid informed Harry, after the boy had retreated back to his cupboard to refill his pockets with weed, making sure to roll a joint for his expectant owl.

They walked. Hagrid didn't know what a train was, and Harry was too euphoric to remind him.

As the strange pair stepped inside the leaky cauldron, Harry scanned the crowd for potential customers and saw a few familiar faces. A scarred, stocky sort of man nodded respectfully at the savior before anyone else in the pub noticed him. Harry just stuck some weed in his mouth decided to give a chill cool guy nod back.

As Hagrid was ordering a drink from the bar, a jittery, turbaned man approached Harry and shook his hand. "It's so v-v-v-very good to m-m-m-m-meet you. My n-name is Q-q-quirinus Q-q-q-q-q-q-quirrel. I'll b-b-be teaching Defense against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts this y-y-y-year." Harry stepped back slowly and eyed twitching man. "You aren't one of my clients are you?" This man looked like he enjoyed the more potent stuff. "B-b-books to buy, p-p-p-p-people to meet. Goodbye Mr. Potter." The apparent "defense" teacher left. If they kept this Squirrel man at Hogwarts to prevent students from overdosing, he was definitely a bad role model. Harry checked his pockets to make sure the weed was still there.

Hagrid had finished his drink, and they exited through the back of the pub. Harry noted that they had arrived at an empty courtyard and wondered if Hagrid was planning on mugging him. "Hey tall boy, what we doin here?" Harry slurred. "You looking to make some deals, or is it going to get messy?" The stoner fished a piece of weed out of his pocket and started chewing on it to pass the time. The giant finally answered him. "Oim sure there' re lots o' places in Diagon Alley ta barter if ye like doin' tha'." "If I can pick up a little somethin' on the side while doing these 'deals' than I'm in," Harry responded. "By the way, where is this Dragon Alley anyway?" "Rouight through this 'ere wall o' course!" Harry coughed and spit out the marijuana he'd been chewing. "And I thought I was trippin-" Hagrid had tapped the wall with a garishly pink umbrella and the wall had started folding in on itself to reveal a bustling crowd of people in dresses with cones of fabric on their heads. 'What the hell am I doing here?' Harry thought, strangely lucid, as he took his first step into Diagon Alley.


End file.
